My Salvation
by angel-of-animosity
Summary: I was broken, and he couldn't resist fixing me. But...maybe I don't want to be saved. Elijah/OC


_**My Salvation  
><strong>_**OC Character Credits:**** **(Are-ee) **Arie Reynolds  
><span>Rated T:<span> Sexual Situations, Some Violence, Some Language  
><strong>**Disclaimer:**** I DO NOT OWN THE ORIGINALS  
><span>Updates:<span> _Every Week, Submitted Saturdays_  
><strong>

|~ **All I Want**

_when you said your last goodbye.  
>i died a little bit inside.<br>__i lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side  
>but if you loved me, why'd you leave me? - Kodaline<em>

Torrents of light dabbed languid cypress trees, drenching the early morning in suffocating humidity. The low-laying area with poorly defined shorelines stirred to life, admist a cacophony of insects harmonizing an unfamiliar tune.

Absently wiping the perspiration from my forehead, I gradually reduced my sprints, treading lightly around downed timbers, detecting the subtle outline of wooden roofing thoroughly masked by thick foliage.

Continuing onward, I adjusted my earbuds, tension enveloping my shoulders as an overwhelming mass of emotions threatened to consume me. Engulfing grief, endless condemnation, and fatal bloodshed seared an impression on my weary mind. Emotions that never ceased to remind me of my faults.

Sneakers coasting along the moist dirt, I recited the distance left in my workout. As the instrumentals' transition built, my throat tightened painfully, unshed tears forming an unclear cloud over my eyes.

Locating the propped screen door of my backwater home, I ambled through the opening as a trickle of moisture swathed my cheek.

Kneeling on unstained hardwood, I removed the earbuds while the song resumed, grasping my upper chest as a convulsive sob tore through my hardened exterior. _Why? Why did I torture myself like this?_

I was supposed to_ forget_ him. What he'd meant to me, what we'd both lost. What I'd become as a result of my selfish choices. Loving someone was the lowest form of selfishness, the only weakness that truly disarmed me. It could make you suffer, like a diver struggling for oxygen, longing to inhale another sustaining breath; only to never reach the surface again.

Contentment would gradually disappear, along with any hope of moving on, leaving you with a suffocating amount of emotions to sort through. Regretful choices, a guilty conscience.

It was an inward battle, fought for nearly half a decade. _A war._ A struggle that exhausted my every thought, heightened every unforgiving sense.

Fingertips trembling as I fumbled for leverage, I guided my hands around the worn edges of the kitchen table, lifting myself to stand.

Moistening my lower lip, I raked a hand through my hair. It _had_ to end.

With my despair in restraints, I toed off my sneakers, adapted to the disquieting stillness of my surroundings. The slight chill of morning slipped through the wide crevices around the window frames, as splintered hardwood pierced the soles of my feet.

Pausing at the entrance to my room, a fresh t-shirt and a pair of holed jeans lay on an unmade bed. Restless nights spent tangled in tarnished sheets, taunted my expired thought process.

I'd become deprived of everything, nearly distorted from grief. Holed away in depression, choosing to rather be alone than someone else's burden. Aiming to piece together my tattered life, I'd realized long ago that perhaps too many pieces had been misplaced. That I could never be truly repaired.

Peeling damp clothes from my body, I absently traced my fingertips over the scars lining my rib cage. Swallowing sharply, I refused to let my mind dredge up anymore unpleasant memories.

Too broken to move on, tired of enduring looks of pity from others who knew of my heartache, I made the decision be a recluse. Forever alone. And that's how things would remain.

Extracting excess water from damp tendrils with a towel, I entered the kitchen. Pulling aside the curtains revealed a window hazy with condensation. Though civilization was miles away, the abode had been modernized with simple commodities, such as a shower, curtains, and a commode.

Feeling less than refreshed after my shower, I massaged my temples, longing for a way to break the band of exhaustion.

I scanned the shelves of the antique fridge for something to quench my thirst. Pouring myself a cup of milk, I placed the half empty quart back on the shelf.

Threading my fingers around the glass mug, I closed my eyes, listened to the endless creaks of the support beams, the consistent dripping of a broken gutter, the resounding retreat of the screen door.

_Arie. _A hiss of air resonated through the flimsy screen, like a voice caressing my ears, before dissipating in the torrid breeze. I lifted my head, glanced toward the screen door. A man stood, hands resting casually near his hip pocket, while curious amber eyes regarded me openly, a meager smile tilting his lips.


End file.
